luna
by songs
Summary: in the spirit world, he meets the moon; — ო yue, zuko, katara.


**title: **luna

**pairing: **yue ო zuko ო katara

**summary:** After being shot by lightening, Zuko meets the moon, in the Spirit World.

**disclaimer: **own nothing!

**notes: **So, it seems that I have a penchant for writing Zuko in pseudo-Spirit-World-love-triangles with Water Tribe Women. Consider this a sister-fic to _belle reve. _

**notes2: **please review? it makes my day!

* * *

The world goes slow, heavy—blaring with pain, _pain _Zuko thinks. _Pain. _He is no stranger to it, but this is different—soul-reaching, almost—no, _soul-stealing, _he decides, as he feels himself go hollow, heavy, dark.

He blinks, once, twice and sees: lightning, Azula, and Katara.

_Katara. _

And then it all goes white.

X

He doesn't know if he has been dreaming, sleeping—but he awakens, and when his eyes creak open, they are immersed in blue. Blue like water, like oceans—like girl-children who grow into their eyes and their words and the sway of their form.

"_Katara_!"

The blue crinkles like moon-craters and there is a chime like laughter, and Zuko stills.

His eyes focus. He sees blues and whites and pinks and browns and then, a girl. A girl who could not be much older than him—a girl he's never met.

_Not Katara._

"Is she okay?" he asks, suddenly, jolting upwards. There is no pain, but Zuko doesn't register this. "Is she alive? Did Azula get her?"

The girl's smile is gentle: moon-song. "Katara? I met her once. She's very strong."

"_Is. She. Alive_." He remembers the lightning, the feral grin carved into Azula's face as she shot.

"Yes," she says, simply. "She's alive. It's _you _that you should be worried about."

"Me?" he asks. His voice is a rasp, his eyes alight as he takes in the world around him. Jasmine-grasses, fruit-bright trees. Flowers. More than he's ever seen in all of his years.

And then it hits—like his sister's lightning, like his father's fire. But he's strangely calm, serene, as he asks, "Am I—"

"Almost," she says, ever-soft. "Almost."

"Oh." Out of habit, he runs a hand along the left side of his face, and stills—the skin is smooth, unblemished.

He eyes the girl, suddenly cold, "How—"

"My name is Yue," she tells him, in a sea-water soprano. "And you're in the Spirit World, Prince Zuko."

X

"…You're the moon spirit." Zuko's tone is dry. Unbelieving.

"I've told you several times, already." She is smiling, bright—iridescent. Like she is made of pearls. "I don't understand why you won't believe me. In your life, you've seen dragons, the Avatar, and people who bend elements with their hands."

Zuko's gaze narrows. "How did you—"

She beams. "You've asked that already. And I told you; this is the Spirit World. And I'm the moon-spirit."

This time, Zuko remains silent.

X

"Why are we the only people here?"

"I'm not a person. I'm a spirit. And you're here because you're waiting."

"…You're still a person. You were human, once."

"Once."

"Have there ever been any—"

"A boy named Jet, once. He was handsome."

"…Jet? He—"

"Yes, Zuko."

"…He was an idiot."

"I guess I have a penchant for idiots."

"…Yue?"

"It's nothing."

X

"So, do you love her?"

Zuko stiffens, spine straight as pillars. "Who?"

Yue only smiles.

X

_My first girlfriend turned into the moon._

_That's rough, buddy._

X

Zuko is tentative, when he asks: "Is there someone you're waiting for?"

Yue looks sadly at the sky; there is no moonrise, no sunlight, only an endless hollow.

"No," she says, but he doesn't need Toph's feet to tell him that it is a lie.

X

"You see everything, from up here?"

Yue nods. "Yes. It's the duty of the moon."

"…Why can't I see anything? I'm here, too."

"The spirits keep the humans blind."

"To what?"

"… Everything."

X

"So," Yue says, slowly. "do you love her?"

Zuko looks at her, looks deep into the blue of her eyes. It's unfamiliar.

"You already know," he says, quietly. "Why are you asking?"

"…Because."

She comes close. Close enough for her to feel his breath, his pulse, to feel the stutter of his eyelashes as she presses her hand to the unscarred skin of his face—the face that could have been—and smiles.

"Goodbye, Zuko."

And then, she—

X

—lets out a choked sob of relief, brings her hands to cradle the back of his head, murmuring, _You're alive, you're alive, you're alive _under her breath like it is a mantra, like it is the song of her bone-marrow, the soul of her skin.

He blinks, once, twice.

_Katara. _

He moves to touch her cheek.

"Thank you," he whispers, and for a moment, his eyes flicker to the blood-red of the moon.


End file.
